EPISODE 59 SCARED…REALLY SCARED…AND ONLY MYSELF TO BLAME
alan skeoch
June 4, 3030
I have done my share of stupid things so far but one
of the worst was on the prospecting job on the tundra of western Alaska
in the summer of 1959.
We had a day with not much to do for some reason or other.
Our camp consisted of a line of dark tents, a cook shack, and
two S52 (Sikorsky) helicopters. We had lots of daylight…sun
never really got far below the horizon. We were a hundred of so
miles inland from the Bering Sea…even more distant
was the Aleutian Island chain where the Japanese had faked an
invasion of North America. This remans an empty land. Startling.
Fascinating.
This is Alaska…flat tundra for hundreds of miles, but occasionally cut by river and creek valleys which you can see in the distance.
Thousands and thousands of years ago when the climate was colder, great hulking Mastodons and even larger Mammoths lumbered
across the land bridge that is now the Bering Sea because the seas were lower around the world and the ice caps of the globe
were larger. It was thoughts like this that drew me to the tundra. Historic. No, Prehistoric.
TUNDRA
Tundra as far as the eye could see in any direction. Very hard to get
lost I reasoned even if 30 miles or more away from camp.
So I grabbed A good book…I think it was Steinbeck’s East
of Eden. Then waited for the lead pilot to greet us like
he did every morning with his cheerful “Let’s Get Fucking Airborne”
One helicopter began the slow “Whomp…Whomp…Whomp”
Then got up to speed.
“Can you drop me out on the tundra?”
“Sure…no equipment , how come?”
“Not needed today.”
I jumped in over the pontoon and we were airborne heading
north west. Eventually the S52 would swing due west towards
the Bering Sea where we had a fuel drop. Forty Five gallon drums
of Diesel.
It was a beaUtiful day around mid-August. The bugs were not nearly
as bad by then because the birds had been feasting for months on the
little bastards. So many birds nested in the tundra that we had to be
careful walking.
“Drop me here’” About 20 or 25 miles from camp. It would be
very hard to get lost since we could see great distances on the flat
treeless tundra.
My plan was simple. I would find a nice folded slope on the tundra and tuck
myself into a depression…out of the wind…then spend a couple of hours
reading Steinbeck before walking back to camp. That would take a full
day…and be delightful. The Humble Oil Company of Texas to whom we
were subcontracted had armed us with big 30-06 rifles but we never felt
the need to carry a rifle on the open tundra so we stacked the rifles at
the helcopter drop sites. This day I did not even take the rifle. Too damn
heavy.
All worked out quite well for an hour or two. Then I got a bit worried. Suppose
a Kodiak bear did happen to be crossing this great expanse of flat land.
It would get my smell I supposed and maybe want to check me out. What the hell
could I do? Climb a tree? That’s a laugh.
The only trees were down in the creek and river valleys that criss crossed the vast
flatness of the tundra. Those valleys and creek bottoms were Kodiak country because
they had easy access to thousands of big salmon heading up river to spawn. And there
were lots of dead salmon floating down. Up top on the tundra I felt safe. Safe? Felt
safe until I realized I was all alone. Alone! No one even knew I was out here. I had
walked miles from the drop site. I was alone.
That’s my partner Bill Morrisson, doing some fishing down in a creek bottom near our camp. These deep incisions in the
tundra are where the Kodiak bears feast on salmon. Around camp we were safe as there were so many guns. Thirty men armed with
rifles and pistols. Disgusting. In Canada, geophysical prospectors like us never carried weapons. “Why are we not armed?”, I asked
on one job. “No guns for good reason…so we cannot shoot each other”. In ten years prospecting this was the only job
where there were guns.
I had been told that the bears stay away from humans because we smell bad.
Hope that was true. Must be true. No bath for weeks except occasional dip
in tundra meltwater pools.
Then my mind shifted from Steinbeck to Kodiak bears When alone, the mind
plays tricks…fears grow. I decided
it might be best to start the journey back to camp which was miles
away but visible.
The two big Sikorskys seemed busy for I could see them flying back
and forth far in the distance. One even flew near me but I would be invisible
in my military bush clothing. And I did not want to bother them.
To get back to camp I had to cross a couple of small creeks that were cut
into the tundra but no big river. There was some brush which made me a little
nervous but not enough to raise the hackles on my neck.
I got back to camp. And there was trouble. “Where the he’ll have you been?”
“We found you missing.” “Sent out the S-52’s” “Heard you were dropped somewhere”
My partner, Bill Morrisson, sitting with feet dangling from a Sikorsky helicopter. Doing what he must have done
the day I decided to go for a long walk with a good book. “Why the hell did you do that..got me worried sick.”
“Just reading a book?”
“Well, you are a goddamned fool.”
(True)
Those lectures were nearly as bad as my slow awareness that spending a few hours
nestled in the trackless wilderness may not have been a good idea.
This story may seem inconsequential. Minor blip in life’s journey. But I think of
it often.
alan skeoch
June 5, 2020
And so it ended. I was chastised by everyone. Then the whole incident was forgotten as the sun circled along
the horizon and then popped up again. And the Sikorsky went to sleep.
alan skeoch
June 2020
(western Alaska, about 100 miles inland from Dillingham, an mostly aboriginal
village, town, on the coast of the Bering Sea.)
Employed by Dr. Norman Paterson
Hunting Technical and Exploration Services
-Canadian arew —Bill Morrison, Moe Chinery, Dr. John Stam,
Don Van Every, Ian Rutherford, and Alan Skeoch
-along with 25 American diamond drillers.